


Lifeline

by WinterSnow10



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Set after El clasico, She also gave the the inspiration for this fic, Thank you to my new beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8829979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterSnow10/pseuds/WinterSnow10
Summary: Marc really doesn't want to go back to an empty apartment after the match, he does anyway. Turns out it's not so empty.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eafay70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eafay70/gifts).



> Leave comments and prompts in the comment section and until next time.

Fuck Sergio Ramos, fuck him and his stupid head,” Marc scowled as he walked out of the stadium. 

He sat in his car for at least twenty minutes, not wanting to go back to an empty apartment. He conceded, he fucked up; Marc-André ter Stegen was the reason that Barcelona was still six fucking points behind Madrid. The German didn’t miss the looks that he was given from his teammates, or the look of what almost seemed like sympathy from the Madrid players. Marc blamed himself. He wanted to blame the defence, but he couldn’t: Marc fucked up and that was that. 

“Fuck you Ramos,” Marc shouted as he banged his head against the steering wheel. 

Marc never took conceding this bad; he was never this hard on himself. Tears collected in the corners of his eyes. Stupid Ramos and his ability to head a ball past nearly any keeper after the 89th minute. The blond took out his phone and called the only person who would know what he felt like. Of course it went to voicemail. 

“Bernd, I know that everything is the best with Leverkusen at the moment. I love you and I miss you. I’ll see you soon.” The blond rubbed his eyes harshly before he turned the key in his car and drove toward his empty apartment. 

Marc took his gear bag out of the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before he walked to the elevator. It dinged once he hit his floor and he walked until he reached his apartment. Once he unlocked the door, Marc wondered where the clothes baskets had gone and why the fuck there was a fire going. The television was playing the next season of American Horror Story. Marc was very confused. He looked over into the kitchen area and saw that the oven was on. On further investigation the German keeper found two lumps of steak on a tray surrounded by veg. 

“What the fuck?” Marc asked himself as he moved to his bedroom. 

The bed was freshly made with a new duvet cover and sheets. 

“I was wondering what happened to you,” a voice laughed, and Marc spun around. 

“Bernd?” Marc asked dumbfounded as he moved closer to the slightly taller man, tears beginning to build up. 

“Shh, I’m here, I watched the match. You did so good,” Bernd whispered in his ear as he hugged him tightly, kissing his hair over and over. 

“I messed up,” Marc mumbled. 

“Nobody could’ve stopped it, fuck the looks that your teammates give you. I’ll go finish dinner, you get changed.” Bernd smiled softly before he pecked Marc’s lips. 

Marc nodded before Bernd left the room. Marc walked into the kitchen ten minutes later wearing a pair of shorts and a grey tee. 

“I missed you,” Marc admitted halfway through dinner. 

“You have no idea. It’s been quiet without you in my ear about random things,” Bernd mumbled. 

“When do you have to go back?” 

“Monday at 8pm. Depending on how the Champions League goes, I really hope we don’t draw each other.”

“Can we not talk about football for a while? I just want to spend time with you,” Marc grunted, still angry about the match. 

They finished their dinner in silence. Bernd collected both plates and put them in the sink before he returned, sat on Marc’s lap, and laced his fingers into Marc’s short hair. 

“I love you,” Bernd mumbled as he rubbed their noses together. 

“Sometimes, I wish that we were just regular people, so we could go out together and just be together,” Marc sighed as he kissed Bernd.

“Do you know what you need? A bath,” Bernd grinned widely. 

“No, you want a bath, but you also want to be held,” Marc corrected and Bernd went bright red. 

Bernd swung his legs off of Marco before he went to the bathroom to run the hot water. After adding the cold water, Bernd felt a hand on his back as he swirled the water. 

“In,” Bernd commanded. 

Marc rolled his eyes before he pulled down his shorts and tore his top off before his eyes fell back to Bernd. 

“Stop staring at my dick. If anybody is being held today, it’s me.” 

Bernd nodded as he removed his shirt and jeans before he slid down into the steaming water. Marc got in; instantly Bernd wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and kissed the side of his neck. 

“Do you want to talk about earlier?” Bernd asked as he nosed behind Marc’s ear. 

“Talk about the fact I conceded and lost two points? No. About how you broke into my house and cleaned it and cooked my dinner? Yes.” 

“Your apartment was very untidy. I knew that you would need somebody after this match, and I got here twenty minutes into it. I watched the rest on your lovely TV. I got your voicemail before you came in, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” Bernd whispered. 

“Thank you for doing everything. I’ll be over during the break - let me cook you dinner?” 

“No, I like my food cooked, not burnt.” 

“I can cook, just not as well as you,” Marc laughed before Bernd splashed him. 

“I’ll let you cook, just don’t burn my house down. Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I fucking love you.”


End file.
